Conflagration
by malgalfan
Summary: MalInara.  Set two months after the events of Fever.  Mal and Inara have a strong disagreement that leads to an unfortunate event. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Conflagration—Part One**

Author: malgalfan

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, much less these lovely characters.

Rating: PG13

Summary: This story takes place two months after the events of "Fever". Mal and Inara have a strong disagreement that leads to a troublesome event.

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As Inara reached up to retrieve the tin of tea from one of the galley cabinets, Mal's arms encircled her waist from behind. She leaned back into his warmth and purred softly as his hands cupped her breasts.

"Mornin', darlin'," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "Why didn't you wake me before you left?"

"I thought you could use the extra sleep, with Badger's job coming up today," she said, pulling away from his grasp. "And I knew Zoe and Jayne would probably be up earlier than usual as well."

Mal frowned, reaching out for her again. "What's wrong, bao bei?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong," she answered defensively.

"Uh huh," Mal said. "Then why are you pullin' away when I touch you?"

Inara looked up at him, a faint flush on her cheeks. "It's nothing," she said. At his skeptical look, she added, "I thought we agreed to keep our…relationship a secret. Anybody could just walk in here and catch us together. We are in the galley, after all."

Mal chuckled low in his throat, pulling her to him again. "Didn't seem to bother you two nights ago," he said, ghosting his lips along her throat. "When we were in here and you were pushed up against the…"

"That was in the middle of the night, Mal," she protested, breathless from the path his hands were taking. "Everybody was asleep."

"Haven't you ever heard of a midnight snack?" Mal asked teasingly, nibbling at her earlobe.

"Mal," she said as firmly as she was able.

Sighing, he let her go. "I was thinkin'," he began. "After the job today, the crew might like a little time to pick up sundries and such. Thought we might stay dirtside for the night. Maybehaps you and me could go out on the town, have a meal with actual food, find a little inn or somethin'. Whaddya say?"

Inara smiled prettily. "That sounds lovely, Mal. It truly does. Perhaps another time. I'm…" She took a deep breath, having dreaded this moment since she'd come to her decision a few days ago. "I'm not sure I'll be back in time."

Mal had the horrible feeling he was going to really hate her next words. "Back from where?" he asked softly.

Inara wrapped her arms across her chest in an unconscious defensive posture. "I have an appointment with a client," she said softly.

Mal's heart lurched painfully against his ribcage. "You what?"

"I have an appointment with a client," Inara repeated.

The silence stretched between them like a chasm too wide to cross as they stared at each other, both painfully aware that this moment could potentially crush the fragile, precious thing growing between them.

Wanting to scream with the pain of it, Mal's voice cutting through the silence was low and deadly. "You mean to say," he ground out, "that you intend to go back to bein' a…" He almost said the hateful word, but somehow reined it in. "Bein' a Companion after what we've been doin' for the past two months?"

Inara squared her shoulders, ready to do battle now. "Mal, I've given this a lot of thought. I never intended to stop being a Companion. But after Miranda, I needed some time to pull myself together. And now I have. So, I'm ready to go back to work. And Persephone seems an ideal place to start."

"You expect me to just stand here and let you do this?" Mal asked, the anger in his voice like a lash across her heart.

"I don't expect you to 'let' me do anything," Inara said, the steel in her voice matching her resolve. "I'm perfectly capable of making my own choices, Mal. And being a Companion is my choice. It is a profession for which I have trained, and one in which I excel." She tossed her head defiantly, fire flashing in her eyes. "And not you, nor any other man, has a right to dictate to me what I can and cannot do."

Mal's fists clenched at his sides, as he took an involuntary step forward. "So, what is it exactly we been playin' at the last two months, 'Nara? You just been honin' your skills? Didn't wanna get rusty? That it?" he spat out.

Inara drew her body to its full height and replied venomously, "My skills don't require any honing, a fact which should be patently obvious to you." With that, she turned on her heel and swept out of the galley, leaving Mal staring stonily in her wake.

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Through sheer dent of will, Mal got through the job without giving in to the urge to kill Badger. Never a big fan of the pompous, little double-crossing hundan, Mal was amazed that this time Badger seemed to have no ulterior motives. Or perhaps it was simply that Badger, ever sensitive to danger to his own hide, could detect that Mal was in a semi-murderous mood when he walked into Badger's lair. Either way, the job went well enough, and Mal had given everyone their cut of the coin and sent them off for some much needed downtime. Most often when Serenity was dirtside, Mal stayed aboard unless there was a specific job to do, and it was usually pleasant to him to have Serenity to himself for awhile. But now, he found himself staring at the clock, willing Inara to come back from her client more desperately with each passing minute. Admittedly, he and Inara had, over the course of their acquaintance, spent more time quarreling than not, he thought. But since they had allowed themselves to become physically intimate, they had rarely exchanged unpleasantries. And now, what Mal had feared most about opening up to her had come to pass. He felt as if he had been stabbed through the heart, and he had given Inara the weapon to accomplish it. He had fallen in love with her.

Pacing through Serenity's corridors, he struggled with himself about how to handle the situation when she returned. He knew, with the reasonable part of his brain, that he didn't have the right to demand that Inara choose him or her profession, but another more primitive part of him was angry that there would even be any question about the matter. How could she ask that he share her with other men? he thought, his heart raging at the idea. And yet how could he not accept her decisions? His mind flashed to the defensive way she'd held herself under his verbal assault.

Thinking that a walk in the fresh air might calm his fevered thoughts, Mal stepped out quickly into the bustle of the Eavesdowne docks. As he walked aimlessly through the crowded streets, he shivered in the chill night air. Having left his coat and gunbelt on Serenity in his haste, he felt somewhat naked and turned back toward the direction he had come. Maybehaps Inara would be back by now, he thought, the notion carrying both hope and trepidation.

Suddenly, from the shadows, two men appeared, blocking his path with weapons drawn. "Malcolm Reynolds," the first man said calmly. "Come with us."

Mal opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut as he felt the cold steel of a gun muzzle placed behind his right ear. Two men flanked him from behind as well. "Whoa now," Mal said lightly as he held up his hands. "No need to get tetchy."

The first man replied flatly, "Captain Reynolds, I'd advise you to come with us without any undue fuss." He motioned with the gun for Mal to step forward.

Mal walked between the men, weighing options as he went. Within scant minutes, the four men had herded him toward a waiting hovercraft. Knowing his chances of escape narrowed considerably if he allowed himself to be pushed into the craft, he balked at the door. Almost immediately, he felt the prick of a needle to the side of his neck. Then, the ground tilted up to meet him.

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To be continued. Please leave feedback, if you'd be so kind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Conflagration—Part Two**

Author: malgalfan

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, much less these lovely characters.

Rating: PG13

Summary: Mal wakes up to an unpleasant situation, and the crew sets out to find their Captain.

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A deep ache in Mal's shoulders and arms ruthlessly pulled him out of his drugged sleep. Blinking through the disorienting residual haze, he lifted his head. A jolt of excruciating pain raced from his neck down his spine at the movement. While more than unwelcome, it at least had the effect of clearing his vision.

'Go se,' he thought, 'this don't bode well' He found himself suspended from a beam running the length of the room, hanging naked by irons at his wrists placed a shoulders-width apart. His ankles were similarly cuffed. Experimenting gingerly, he discovered that if he stretched his legs and feet as far as possible, he could just barely reach the floor. Resting on the tips of his toes, he tried to ease the ache throbbing between his shoulder blades. The room was dark, but cracks in the walls and ceiling allowed a feeble early morning light in. Unfortunately, they also allowed a chilling breeze to blow across his exposed flesh.

Whoever had him, he thought uneasily, had less than no interest in seeing to his comfort. The room gave no clue as to its owner, and Mal was more than a little anxious to see the person or persons responsible for his current predicament.

Time passed slowly, and Mal measured it by the progression of the light across the floor over which he hung. The early morning breeze gave way to the stillness of midmorning, and still Mal had no indication of life anywhere nearby. Alternating between resting his weight on his toes and hanging from his wrists, he waited.

Finally, at what Mal estimated to be about noon, the door swung open, and two men walked in silently. Looking to be at least Jayne's size, they stood staring at him expressionlessly. Realizing they were simply muscle for some as yet unknown enemy, Mal stared back, trying not to look at all intimidated in his vulnerable position.

The door opened again, revealing a face with which Mal was all too familiar. "Hey, Ath," he said, as casually as if they were meeting over tea and cakes.

Atherton Wing looked no less angry than he had when Mal had last seen him. Carefully setting down a large box on a table by the door, he approached Mal. The scar on his left cheek was a vivid white line against the tan of his skin. "Captain Reynolds," he said icily, "I cannot tell you how long I've waited to see you again. We have so much catching up to do." He smile was thin and snide.

"Well, if it's another sword fight you're looking for," Mal said, pointedly staring at Wing's scar, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm over that phase."

"On the contrary, Captain," Wing answered, his voice menacing. "I'm not looking for a sword fight. I have other activities in mind. Something new for my amusement." He pushed Mal's bare chest with the palm of his hand, causing Mal to swing slightly and pain to ripple through his arms and shoulders. Turning back to the box on the table, Wing began to withdraw objects almost lovingly. "I don't know if Inara ever told you," he said conversationally, "but I'm a collector of sorts. I've always been interested in weaponry and also in instruments of torture. It is a constant amazement to me the methods men have devised to cause pain and suffering to other men."

Mal's mouth went suddenly dry as he recognized several of the devices Wing was carefully arranging on the table. "Yeah, it's a real puzzlement," he said, his voice deceptively calm.

Holding up one such instrument to catch the light, Wing continued, "For instance, this little device. Its history is rather interesting. It's been in use for centuries now. It's called, oddly enough, a 'brass knuckle', though I believe this particular one is made of steel instead. Very efficient for causing deep tissue damage, I'm told. But we'll see." So saying, he handed it to one of his men. "Of course, being a swordsman myself, I'm partial to the cutting tools. There's nothing quite so elegant in its simplicity as a well-balanced flaying knife." He held it up for Mal's inspection. "Of course, we'll have to wait on this one for at least a couple of days, I think. Perhaps it can be our coup de grace, so to speak."

Mal's face remained impassive, but his pulse beat rapidly under his skin. He had not even the slightest illusion that Wing wouldn't do exactly as he said. It was obvious the hundan was psychotic. Inara sure knew how to pick 'em, he thought bitterly.

Wing's next comment intruded on his thoughts. "The evolution of torture is also an interesting study," he went on. "For instance, this little beauty." He pulled out what looked like an ordinary metal rod. "Once upon a time, for this to be of use, we would have to lay it in a very hot fire and wait for several minutes. Now, we can achieve the same result much more quickly by pressing this little button." Within seconds the lower third of the rod glowed violent red. Mal could feel the heat from it from where he hung. "Ah, the benefits of modern technology," Wing said. He handed the rod to the second man, whispering detailed instructions in his ear.

The man nodded and stepped forward. "Wait," Wing commanded. Turning back to Mal, he smiled. "I need to set up my recording equipment. I'm really not quite sure how long you'll be able to last, so I want to be certain to capture every precious moment for later enjoyment." He reached up on the wall and flicked a light on. Pushing a button beside the light panel, he activated the recording device. Fiddling for a moment to adjust the angle of the lens, he finally stepped back, satisfied. "Have you anything to say before we begin, Captain?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Mal replied flatly.

Wing folded his arms across his chest and leaned casually against the table with one hip. Nodding at his men, he said simply, "Begin."

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Though outwardly calm, Zoe Washburne was as close to frantic as she ever got. As near as she could figure, Mal had been missing for almost a day now, and Serenity's crew had found no trace of where he could be. More disquieting than that was the fact that his gun lay on the desk of his bunk, which meant that, wherever he was, he was unarmed. And for the past several hours, River had been in fits, alternating sobbing and screaming, and effectively fraying Zoe's last nerve.

Now, however, the girl sat silent, staring off into the distance, rocking back and forth. "Hurts," she whimpered suddenly.

"What hurts, mei mei?" Simon asked for the thousandth time.

River surprised him with an answer. "Captain Daddy," she whispered, tears shining on her cheeks.

Zoe knelt beside her on the floor. "You can feel him, little one?" she asked, her voice a hollow rasp.

River nodded, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"Can you tell where he is?" Inara asked. The hope in her voice was palpable in the sudden quiet.

River tilted her head, trying to focus through the maelstrom of emotion coming from the crew. "Building," she said after several agonizing minutes. "Old, run down. Isolated, so no one will hear the screaming." She shuddered, trying to hold on to the slender thread of Mal's thoughts in her head. The crew stared at her silently, willing her to find the answer they sought. "Swordsman," she said finally.

"What the di yu does that mean?" Jayne asked, his clam damaged by her creepifying manner.

River shook her head in frustration. "Don't know," she wailed, jumping up and sprinting from the room before anyone could stop her.

A cold dread clamped around Inara's heart. "Atherton," she said with sudden certainty. "She means Atherton."

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To be continued. Feedback would be greatly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Conflagration—Part Three**

Author: malgalfan

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, much less these lovely characters.

Rating: R

Summary: While Mal's life hangs in the balance, Inara tries to find a way to save her lover.

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"It ain't gonna happen," Zoe said flatly. "You're not going in there alone."

Inara's voice bristled with frustration. "Zoe, I've been there before. Atherton's security system is practically invulnerable. And he has a large contingent of very well-trained man who act as bodyguards at his offices and his estate. He's a man who's made enough powerful enemies to know that he needs good protection. He won't let you through. But he might just let me get through."

"Yeah, he might," Zoe agreed. "But if he does, what's to say he won't just do to you whatever he's doin' to the Captain?"

Inara took a deep, cleansing breath. "I don't believe he will. But in either case, I'm not going to stand by and let Mal die without even trying to do something. So, unless you have a better plan, I'm going in."

"But didn't River say the Cap'n was somewheres isolated?" Kaylee asked. "How will going to his estate do any good if'n the Cap'n ain't even there?"

"I can persuade him to take me to him," Inara said with certainty. "I know I can."

Silence fell around the table for a moment as the crew thought about the implications of such a statement. To everyone's surprise, it was Jayne who supplied the plan. "If Moonbrain's right and Mal is somewhere out in the countryside, and Inara can get the hundan to take her to him, we might have our way in."

"I can't imagine Wing would be stupid enough to let Inara see where she would be going," Simon observed.

"She wouldn't have to if'n we could rig up some way to track her. Then, she gets to Mal and we follow. Prolly won't be a big group of men guardin' the place if'n it's in the middle of nowhere."

"That's a lot of 'ifs', Jayne," Zoe replied grimly.

"Well, let me give you one more," Inara said decisively. "If we don't do something soon, Atherton will kill him. Count on it."

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The small room was filled with the sound of Mal's shallow breathing and the constant whir of the recording equipment. Wing's men had left for the night, placing their bloody instruments on the table as they went. Wing himself had stayed longer, walking around Mal's tortured body admiring the handiwork of his employees and occasionally reaching out to press down viscously on a particularly livid bruise or burn. Mal had tried not to moan or twist his body away from Wing's cruel touch, as it seemed to give the man an almost sexual satisfaction when he did. Finally, Wing's desire for a decent meal and his own bed persuaded him to stop the torment until morning. So, delivering one final blow to Mal's ribcage that sent him swinging from the chains in agony, Wing had left.

When Mal finally stopped swinging, he tried to assess the damage done as best as he was able. Wing's men had been most proficient in the art of torture under Wing's watchful eye. When one grew tired, the other took over seamlessly, giving Mal no time to brace himself or catch his breath between each different device. Coming to the brink of unconsciousness several times, Mal had been unable to reach the blessed oblivion it would have offered him. Even Niska had let him die for a few minutes, he mused, wondering if he was on the thin edge of sanity to even have such a thought. Too weakened to stretch his legs and feet out to the floor now, his weight rested excruciatingly on his battered shoulders and raw wrists, and a cold sweat burned like fire in his open wounds.

As the night wore on, a cold wind blew through the cracks in the walls, and Mal began to shake violently, his teeth clattering together hard enough that he was surprised they didn't simply shatter. After a long time, the shaking stopped, leaving him limp as a rag doll in its wake. Trying not to think about what tomorrow would bring, he closed his eyes and attempted to sleep while he had the chance.

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Inara surveyed her appearance in her full-length mirror. She remembered Atherton's preferences with regard to hair and make-up, and knew exactly what style of dress he preferred. And she hoped that the skills that made her an exceptional Companion would at least help her gain entrance to his estate this morning. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of Serenity into Persephone's early morning sun, and hailed a driver to take her to Atherton's estate.

Standing at the gate, she requested entrance from the head of Atherton's household staff. "I'm sorry, Miss Serra," the man said. "Mr. Wing is not yet awake. Perhaps you could come back later." He looked uncomfortably at the screen.

Inara stood her ground. "Perhaps I could wait in the morning room," she suggested sweetly. "I'm certain Mr. Wing will want to see me."

Atherton's voice overrode the man's next comment. "Let her in, Neville," he said, loudly enough that Inara could hear. "Through the servant entrance. And send her to my bedchamber."

Neville looked at Inara, an apology in his eyes. "Miss Serra, if you'd be so kind as to…"

Inara smiled brightly. "It's perfectly all right, Neville. I heard Mr. Wing's request. I'll come around back."

"Very good, ma'am," Neville replied with relief.

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Inara's heart hammered in her throat as she was escorted through the mansion. Though she'd been here several times before, she had never made the trip knowing what she knew now about the ugly underbelly of Atherton's personality. She had made a personal vow after their last encounter to do everything within her power to avoid ever setting eyes on him again, but that vow had become a moot point the moment she knew he had Mal.

Steeling her resolve, she stepped into the huge bedroom that was the most private place in Atherton's house. Her eyes adjusting to the dim light, she looked carefully around the room. Where once it had seemed a pleasant place to spend an evening, now it resembled nothing so much as a tomb. As that dismal perception entered her mind, a hand clamped bruisingly over her shoulder, causing her to jump in surprise.

Atherton turned her around to face him. "Well, well," he said, his voice sliding like a snake along her spine. "What an unexpected delight to have you here again, bao bei."

The term of endearment, such a mockery of the way Mal said it so lovingly, made Inara shudder in revulsion for this man. The motion was not lost on Atherton. His expression became brittle. 'What do you want, whore? Be quick. I have business elsewhere."

Inara swallowed thickly, realizing that he would brook no pretense on her part. "I want to see Captain Reynolds. I want you to release him to me."

Atherton looked at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Why, pray tell, would you think I have your precious Captain?'

"I know you have him," Inara said, biting back her need to rage at the man.

"Let us say, for the sake of argument, that that is true," Atherton said, warming up to this new game. "What are you prepared to offer in exchange for him?"

Inara had known such a question would come. "I'm not prepared to offer anything at all until I know he's alive. Take me to him, and then we'll discuss the terms."

Atherton towered over her, predator to prey. "My dear, I believe you flatter yourself. I am not in the habit of acceding to the demands of whores. Leave me." He turned his back to her.

Silently cursing him and all his ancestors, Inara knew exactly the part he wished her to play. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, and walked around his forbidding form to face him. Placing her hand lightly on his chest, she arranged her face in a submissive expression. "Please, Atherton," she said, forcing the words to sound penitent.

Raw pleasure coursed through Atherton at her demeanor. Grinning ferally, he said, "Strip."

Inara's heart hammered as she stood frozen for a moment. Atherton laughed low in his throat. "Don't concern yourself overmuch, my pet. While I fully intend to issue that same command to you at a later date for a more pleasurable purpose, that is not my intention now. Your Captain is not here. We'll have to take a little trip to see him. And while you are quite charming, I'm well aware of your penchant for deception. Hence the need for the search." Motioning with his hands, he continued, "Remove everything. Now."

Telling herself that it didn't matter, that this man had seen her naked many times, and that this was the only way to get to Mal, she took off her clothes and stood before him. Atherton, very much aroused by the thought of how Inara would react when she saw what he'd done to her precious lover, walked around her slowly, clucking with appreciation. "Lovely as ever. My compliments," he said.

Silently repeating like a mantra that this would get her to Mal, Inara forced herself to stand perfectly still as his intentionally rough hands roamed across her chilled skin. She closed her eyes and stifled a cry as his fingers pushed up into her brutally. Withdrawing them slowly, he smiled malevolently, but said nothing.

He turned his attention to her clothes, pawing them in search of weapons or tracking devices. Finally satisfied, he turned back to her, throwing the wrinkled garments at her feet. "Get dressed. Wouldn't want your precious Captain to see you like this."

Swallowing back a scalding retort, Inara bent to retrieve her clothes.

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To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Conflagration—Part Four**

Author: malgalfan

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, much less these lovely characters.

Rating: R

Summary: Atherton takes Inara to Mal and violence ensues.

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Inara tried to concentrate on her surroundings to gain insight as to Mal's whereabouts. Blindfolded and sitting beside Atherton in a hovercraft, she heard the sounds of the city dissipate to be replaced by the stillness she associated with the largely uninhabited area beyond the city's eastern border. But vaguely disoriented by the loss of sight, Inara had trouble gauging how much time had passed since they had left Atherton's estate.

Thankful that Atherton had been too busy pawing her body and then her clothes to pay much attention to the beading on her sandals, she hoped that the tiny transmitter Kaylee had placed in one of the stone settings would have a long enough range that Zoe and Jayne could follow her trail. She uneasily considered the possibility that they might be quite some distance behind her, as Wing's craft could fly in a more direct route than Serenity's dirtbound mule could follow.

After what seemed a small eternity with Atherton's thigh pressed unnecessarily close to hers, the hovercraft stopped and Inara was manhandled out of the vehicle. Atherton ripped off her blindfold, catching some of her hair along with it. She blinked in the sudden bright light, and a small shack swam into her field of vision. Grabbing her arm, Atherton jerked her forward and opened the door of the small building, flooding it with light.

Inara could not contain her gasp at what she saw. Mal, naked and battered beyond any nightmare Inara could have conceived, raised his head slowly to look at her through bloodshot eyes.

Inara, forgetting her earlier plan to feign indifference in front of Atherton, tried to jerk her arm free, needing with every last molecule of her being to go to the man she loved. But Atherton's grip was vise-like, and he held her back, enjoying her obvious distress.

"'Nara," Mal rasped through cracked lips. "What are you…"

"She's come to rescue you, Captain," Atherton said, an almost cheery lilt in his voice. "It would seem your whore wanted to examine the extent of the damage before we discuss the terms of your release."

As he spoke, he shoved Inara forward, causing her to stumble into Mal. Hissing with pain at the contact, Mal swung again in the chains until Inara reached out to steady him as gently as she could. While Mal fought for breath enough to thank her, Atherton pulled her away again.

Mal followed her with his eyes, wishing she was anywhere in the 'verse rather than pinned to Wing's side. "Let her go," he croaked.

"You are in no position to make demands, Captain," Atherton said, pinning Inara's arms with one hand while running the other deliberately slowly across her body. "This is a business transaction between Inara and me. You have no say in the matter."

A murderous rage swept over Mal, giving him the strength to surge forward against the chains. "I said let her go, you liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze," he ground out, heedless of the blinding pain the movement caused.

Atherton did let her go as he surged forward to yank Mal's head backward by the hair, stretching the tendons of the man's neck until they stood out in sharp relief. He hissed into Mal's ear, "Tell me what to do just once more, and I'll have you beaten to death while she watches. And then, my heroic Captain, while she weeps over your carcass, I'll take her, and I'll do things to her body you can't begin to imagine." Releasing his hold slightly, he continued. "And when I am through with her, I'll give her to my men. Dong ma?"

Inara could not hear what Atherton was threatening, but she saw Mal's reaction as his hair was abruptly released. Looking at her with more anguish than she thought she could bear to see in his eyes, he whispered hoarsely, "Go away, 'Nara. Leave me."

"Mal," she said past the lump in her throat. "I'm not going to…"

Mal interrupted her. "Inara, I'm begging you. Just walk away. Now."

Inara moved closer to Mal, while Atherton looked on, enjoying the agony of the moment. "Mal, I can't just leave you here to die. Please don't ask me to. Not when it's within my power to stop it. I can't leave you, any more than you could leave me," she said, unaware of the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Mal ached to wipe those tears away, but he knew he had to convince her to go. Setting his jaw wearily, he said, "Listen to me. If you give yourself to this hundan to save my life, it'll be for nothing. 'Cause I can't live with that kinda' sacrifice. I may be walkin' and talkin', but I'll be dead inside. Dong ma?" Taking a ragged breath, he went on. "I ain't asked you for much up 'til now, bao bei. But I'm askin' you with every last scrap of strength I've got. If you care about me at all, walk out that door right now." His blue eyes bore into her brown ones, willing her to obey. The silence stretched agonizingly between them.

"Well, as much as I've enjoyed this touching little moment," Atherton said, coming to stand in front of Inara, "The time has come for you to make your decision. What's it going to be, Inara?"

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"I think I see it up ahead," Jayne said, squinting into the noonday sun. "Looks like there's only one vehicle there, too."

"Any guards outside?" Zoe asked, unable to look farther that a few feet ahead as she maneuvered through the rocky terrain.

Jayne retrieved a set of binoculars from the front compartment of the mule. After a minute, he replied, "Not any I can see, leastways. Guess the hundan figures won't nobody be liable to stumble onto this little place. Course, that's not to say there ain't a passel of guards on the inside."

Zoe nodded. "S'pose not," she said. "But it don't look big enough to house more bodies than we got bullets."

Jayne grunted in affirmation, fingering Vera with anticipation.

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Inara stepped past Atherton and gazed directly into Mal's tortured eyes. "I love you, Malcolm Reynolds," she said, gently tilting his head to place a soft kiss on his bloodied lips. She let her mouth linger there for a long moment, and then whispered softly, "Trust me."

Mal looked at her, confusion written across his features. Opening his mouth to respond, he felt a vaguely familiar sensation, and the world went suddenly black.

Atherton seized Inara's arms, and shook her like a rag doll. Feeling cheated of his moment of sweet revenge, he shouted, "What have you done, whore?"

Before Inara could form a reply, the door burst open and Jayne stepped into the room. Still holding Inara's arms, Wing turned toward the disturbance in time to see Jayne pull the trigger, Zoe's gun echoing with its own blast.

Atherton's lifeless hands slipped from Inara's arms as he slumped to the ground in a bloody heap. Inara knelt beside him, trembling hands seeking the key to release Mal from his shackles.

When the task had been accomplished and Jayne laid Mal's unconscious body in the back of the mule, Zoe turned to Inara. "You got a plan as to what to do about all this?" she asked, indicating the building and its occupant with a sweep of her hand.

Inara looked at her steadily. "I say we burn it to the ground," she answered, wiping Atherton's blood off her stony face.

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One more part to go, and this one's a wrap. I'd appreciate any feedback you're willing to provide.


	5. Chapter 5

**Conflagration—Part Five**

Author: malgalfan

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, much less these characters.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal and Inara make it back to Serenity, and have a moment of truth.

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Still able to hear the distant crackling of the burning building behind them, Inara held Mal's head in her lap as Serenity's mule bounced along the bumpy terrain. Though he had not regained consciousness, she saw his abused muscles tense each time the mule hit a particularly rough patch of road.

Inara had the time now to examine his body more carefully, damning Atherton to all nine levels of hell as she took in the extent of his savagery. Mal's normally fair flesh was covered with deep purple contusions and the angry reds and whites of blistering burns. Small, deliberate cuts tattooed his torso, and viscous attention had been paid to his abdomen and groin as well. She dared not turn him over to examine his back, but she could see what looked suspisciously like the marks left by lashes of a whip curling around his sides. She wept silently with the pain of it, her tears spilling down onto his cheeks.

Mal's eyelids fluttered open. "'M'I dead'?" he asked almost inaudibly, trying to get his eyes to focus properly.

Inara wiped her tears away hastily. "No, Mal, you're not. We're headed home to Serenity."

Mal took a few minutes to process the information. "You drugged me," he said, slight surprise in the statement. "Good night kiss."

"Seemed like the thing to do at the time," Inara replied, stroking her fingers soothingly through his hair.

Mal fought to keep his eyes open. "Wing?"

"Dead," Inara replied.

Mal nodded, the movement causing him to wince.

"Go back to sleep, Mal. Or I'll have to kiss you again," Inara said tenderly.

Mal's cracked lips tilted into a lop-sided smile. "Kissin's good," he said, his speech slurring as he fell back to sleep.

"Yes, it is," Inara whispered softly, looking out toward the horizon.

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Two days later, Mal still slept most of the time, his body craving the recuperative power of sleep. Once Simon had repaired what damage he could, Inara had insisted on moving Mal to her shuttle, where the bed was more comfortable and she could keep a constant eye on his progress.

Mal drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of his surroundings through the haze induced by Simon's pain meds. Each of the crew took turns sitting with their Captain, but Inara refused steadfastly to leave his side. River, who knew about their relationship of the past two months, was the only one who did not try to persuade Inara to leave. Inara found comfort in her presence.

On the third night, deep into Serenity's sleep cycle, Inara slipped gingerly into bed beside him, careful not to jostle him more than necessary. As if feeling the weight of her worried gaze, Mal stirred. Opening his eyes, he turned his head to face her.

Inara saw that his eyes seemed more focused than they had been since he'd been home. "Hey, you," she said softly.

"Hey, yourself," Mal answered. "Am I dreamin', or am I in your shuttle?"

"You are not dreaming," Inara answered.

"Somehow I knew you'd get me into this bed sooner or later," Mal said, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

"Yes, this was all an elaborate ruse to get you where I wanted you," Inara answered dryly.

"Thought so," Mal said. After a moment, his eyes turned serious. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, the words catching painfully in his throat.

"No," Inara answered. "Zoe and Jayne came. Can't say which one made the shot that killed him, but he died just the same." She paused for a moment, relieving the memory. "We burned it all. The body, the recording equipment, the…tools he used, the building."

"Must have been quite the conflagration," Mal said quietly. "You okay, darlin'?"

Inara nodded, unable to speak for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mal. Sorry I brought that monster into our lives, sorry he hurt you so badly. Sorry I couldn't get there sooner."

Mal reached a bandaged arm to touch her. "You did good, bao bei. I'm still alive, and I had my doubts as to whether I'd be able to say that for awhile there."

They were silent for a long time, their fingers entwined on the bed. Taking a deep breath, Mal said, "It was my fault anyway. Shouldn'ta' left the ship without my gun. That's just a recipe for unpleasantness."

"Why did you?" Inara asked, suddenly afraid of the answer. "Leave the ship, I mean."

Mal sighed. "Needed to get some fresh air, clear my head." He looked over at her again, his intense blue eyes smoldering with emotion he'd long repressed. "I couldn't just sit and wait for you to come back from your client." Clearing his throat to hide the sudden tremor in his voice, he added, "I ain't got it in me, 'Nara. I love you more'n I've ever loved another living thing, but I don't think I can deal with knowin' I ain't enough for you, that what we got between us ain't enough for you."

Inara's heart twisted painfully as she saw the absolute sincerity of his words reflected in his eyes. "Mal, this thing between us is more than enough. My decision to take on clients is not about that at all. I meant what I said to you back there. I love you, Malcolm Reynolds."

"Then why, Inara?" he asked. "Explain it to me, 'cause I can't wrap my head around it."

Inara moved closer to him, carefully aligning her body to his so as not to cause more pain. Resting her hand against a relatively undamaged patch of skin on his chest, she tried to form an answer. "When I was a little girl," she began, "the Companion house was very close to where we lived. And when Mother and Father would take me to the ballet or the theater, I would see them. They were so beautiful, so elegant and poised. And I admired that and wanted desperately to be like them. As I grew and developed, it became obvious to my parents that an education at the Guild House would suit my temperament and my ambitions." She shifted against him, momentarily lost in her story. "And it did, Mal. It suited me very well. Soon, it was apparent to everyone that I was very skilled at the various arts required of Companions. I devoted myself completely to it, foregoing any other dreams I may have had, until it was literally all I had, all I was."

Mal pulled his arm up painfully to draw her closer, but held his silence.

"And then I met you. And you made me yearn for something…something I couldn't even name. And when the wanting became strong enough to consume me, I left, before I lost the last bit of me to it, and before it destroyed us both. I went back to the Guild House for protection, Mal."

"And then I pulled you back out of it," Mal whispered.

Inara nodded against his shoulder. "After Miranda, I couldn't go back, couldn't bear to leave you again."

She felt the rapid beat of Mal's heart against her palm. "That still doesn't explain why, Inara," he persisted.

"Mal, I have no place in your world. Being a Companion is not just what I do. It's who I am. I thought long and hard about what I could do if I stay here with you. If we were dirtside, I could teach, or perhaps be a counselor. But I can't ask you to leave Serenity, and I don't want to either. So, if I'm going to stay here, I have to take more clients. Do you understand?"

"Inara, I hear the words, but you're wrong, darlin'. You do belong in my world. You're a Companion, but that ain't in no way all you are. You're my heart, woman. I'll look after you. I'll protect you long's I'm drawing breath. You don't have to take on clients anymore. Lean on me. I've got you."

"Then I'll be no better than your whore, Mal," she said sadly.

"No, that ain't the way of it at all," Mal said, his voice cracking with the need to make her understand. "You won't be my whore. You'll be my partner, my reason for getting up every morning, the soul of me." Reaching to catch the tears that fell on her cheeks, he added, "You're all those things, bao bei, and so much more besides. Please don't turn your back on all that."

Inara's lips trembled as she spoke. "Are you saying that if I choose to take clients, you'll consider it 'turning my back' on what we have?" she asked in a small, desolate voice.

Mal swallowed thickly, holding onto her as tightly as his injured arms would allow. "I know I got no right to ask you to give it up, but I ain't ever gonna be able to make my peace with it this side of the grave, Inara. I ain't proud of it, but that's the pure truth of it," he said honestly.

Inara knew, lying there in that moment, that he spoke the truth from his bared heart. And given the strength to find her own truth, she answered quietly, "Then I choose you."

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That's it. Hope you liked it. Thanks for reading and I appreciate very much the ones who have taken the extra minute to comment! Those comments make me want to keep writing!


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